


Wonder in Witchland

by orphan_account



Category: Weetzie Bat Series - Francesca Lia Block
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alice in Wonderland, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:45:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3483593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Witch Baby goes out on Halloween.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wonder in Witchland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DWEmma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DWEmma/gifts).



_Cum 2 rabbithole 2nite_ , Raphael texted, and it was all too easy for Witch Baby to give in. She had wanted Hollow’s Eve for herself, but she wanted his disappointment less, so she pulled on ripped fishnets and a purple petticoat, in dark mockery of Victorian maidens. 

At Rabbit Hole she found long white ears perched atop Raphael’s head and Cherokee’s face flat against his mouth, so it only made sense to pound back that one, two, three tequila shots offered against a stranger’s neck. Even easier still to follow a passing group from one party to the next, racing laughter through the streets in a zombied frenzy. 

Raphael and Cherokee finally caught up with her at their fourth location, Cherokee’s lips already disapproved into a thin frown. Witch Baby was so, so tired of her shit.

“Fuck off,” Witch said. Her sister might have gaped like a fish, or she might have responded with a furious yowl—Witch had no idea, more interested in the joint that had made its way into her hand. She blew smoke rings into Raphael’s face, ensnaring his shocked expression with her wispy lassos. 

She was really drunk, Witch realized, and made her escape with a bird shriek. She parked herself at the all-night Duchess Diner a few blocks away, once she was certain they were no longer following. She nursed a single cup of black coffee as she stared out the window, gazing at the broken blanks passing as expressions on people’s faces. She craved her camera but only had the ballpoint she stole from her waitress. Witch scribbled chicken scratches on napkin scraps anyway, writing furiously enough to make the thin sheets flutter into the air. 

“Why are diners such good writing desks?” Witch looked up to the most mischievous grin. The florescent lighting around the boy's face made it difficult to see anything but a bright flash of teeth; yet she felt strongly certain that were she to see the rest of his face, she would find him ethereally beautiful. He clutched a fistful of her napkins in his hand—the ones that had fled her table to the floor—and waved them over her face.

“—I,” she said, heart throbbing more violently than her speakers, her drum set, the vibrations of this earth. Before she could think, a voice rang out from the back, pitched in the tone of an angry supervisor. 

“Gotta go,” the mysteriously beautiful bus boy said, taking his leave of her with a wink. His grinned remained, pressed into her mind like silkscreen.

“—I,” she repeated to the air. Witch smashed down a random assortment of coins and ran out the door, fleeing into the anonymity.


End file.
